Preconceptions (preconceived, prejudice or just plain puzzled)
by The Readers Muse
Summary: The papers by week's end would read cheery and boastful of the happy announcement. That Sir Anthony Strallan had found his Guide in one Lady Edith of Downton Abbey. The first Sentinel and Guide pair in the county for over five generations. Detailing how they'd been bonded and happily married in a quiet, tasteful arrangement after meeting unexpectedly during a dinner party.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Downton Abbey or any of its characters, wishful thinking aside.

 **Authors Note #1:** I needed some dirty Edith/Anthony (Andith) and decided to bring the Sentinel/Guide trope in with me. In this story, the idea is that a Sir Anthony is a Sentinel: (person with enhanced senses) And Edith is his Guide: (a person that helps a Sentinel control their gifts and keep them from 'zoning' or hyper-focusing on one sense and thus vulnerable.) The connection or bond between a Sentinel and Guide is a soul deep and almost spiritual thing that is generally considered pre-destined. Much like the soul-bond/one-love trope. ***** In this version Sentinels don't come online until they meet their Guide, the person best suited to help them balance these abilities – essentially the other half of their soul. Neither Sentinel nor Guide can come online until they are at least twenty years of age. So, essentially, when Sir Anthony visits Downton in 1x5, this is the first time an encounter would have resulted in them being matched as Edith is at least twenty years old in 1912.

 **Warnings:** ***** Contains: porn with some actual plot – but not much, dub-con due to trope, period appropriate behavior/language/thoughts/actions/etc, use of restraints, animal traits/behaviors, sexual content, oral sex, nudity.

 **Preconceptions (preconceived, prejudice or just plain puzzled)**

 _ **Chapter One**_

The papers by week's end would read cheery and boastful of the happy announcement. That Sir Anthony Strallan had found his Guide in one Lady Edith of Downton Abbey. The first Sentinel and Guide pair in the county for over five generations. Detailing how they'd been bonded and happily married in a quiet, tasteful arrangement after meeting unexpectedly during a dinner party hosted by her father and mother, Lord and Lady Grantham.

However, like with most matters of truth and fiction, it was the former that was far more interesting. Teasing like the tendrils of newborn green in one's rose garden. Shuddering for a steady, experienced hand to help them bloom to their fullest potential.

For in truth, they never made it to dinner.

* * *

She heard him before she saw him. Nattering animatedly to papa about some farming term she was unfamiliar with. But with an enthusiasm that made her smile small. Thinking it refreshingly honest after days of squabbling with Mary and braving the dreary appointments expected of her as the daughter of a Lord.

The conversation paused when they entered the room. Keeping her usual place between her sisters as papa, Cousin Matthew and their other guests came to greet mother. Enveloping her smoothly in their conversation as they interspersed their gratitude for their invitation to dine. It was the usual ceremony of masculine peacocking. Doggedly keeping with the old traditions as Grandmother swept in from the wings. Settling into a chair in the center of things with her usual flare. Demanding everyone's attention as she began discussing something she'd read in the papers that morning.

All but one man's, at least.

Because Sir Anthony had stopped dead the moment she'd stepped through the threshold. Blue eyes flaring frightfully dark, almost piercing as they fixed on her. She startled, white gloves ghosting down the sides of her pale rose dress, fighting the girlish urge to hide behind them. Feeling a queer trembling in her limbs as he inhaled audibly, sharp like the precursor to a growl as his glass of brandy slipped from his fingers. Flooding across the carpet in a wave of sluggish, burnt-amber.

"Sir Anthony? Are you quite alright man?!"

She cocked her head, unconsciously taking his measure as the distant ringing of her father's voice echoed dully. Unimportant. The man was handsome, to be sure. But in a mature and wan sort of way she was uncertain she found pleasing until that very moment. Only pulling herself out of the observation when Thomas blurred past. Daubing distractedly at the carpet as he looked between them curiously. Making her realize that somewhere along the line she must have stepped forward. Answering the sudden need to be closer as Sir Anthony tugged at his collar. Beads of sweat hushing down from his temples as Cousin Matthew gripped him by the shoulder, passing a hand in front of his face as if he could somehow rouse him.

"Edith?"

Her tongue peeked out on its own accord, tracing the seam of her lower lip like a silent challenge. Feeling her lips pull back – a smile, or maybe a snarl – when he hissed at her. Shocking the room like a blow as he shrugged off Matthew's arm and wrenched himself forward. Calling to her without words as a rush of heat flooded through her – sending her reeling – skin prickling. _No, burning!_ Like a banked fire being brought back to life just underneath her skin.

"Edith, darling, are you alright?"

He took a step forward.

Then another.

Her hand flailed out, curling fast around one of the footman's steady arms. Gripping him madly, like he was only thing keeping her grounded as papa and Matthew got in front of Sir Anthony before she could go to him. Blocking him from view as a whimper rose up in her throat.

"William! Hold her!"

She went rigid when she realized she could no longer see him. Feeling the wrongness of it immediately. Making to pull away only to realize William was holding her now as well, hemmed in by mama and Cousin Isobel as Mary let go of a wordless sound beside them. Looking from her then back to Sir Anthony with an expression she didn't quite recognize.

In fact, she didn't care.

He needed her.

She knew that.

Felt it.

 _She had to go to him!_

 _She had to make them understand!_

"Carson, fetch Doctor Clarkson! Don't-"

A cold burst of air felt like heaven against her burning skin as Cousin Isobel fanned her frantically. Only backing away when William lifted her bodily, trying to lay her down on the chaise as she struggled fiercely. Managing to get back to her feet and free of them as her hands curled into fists, quite overcome. Seeming to mirror him as Sir Anthony cursed. Hair mussed and tumbling free of its neat part as they found each other again through the fray. Extending a desperate hand towards her that she returned as papa and Matthew tried to wrestle him back. Reaching for him instinctively despite the yards that still existed between them.

It was almost too much. This sudden connection. Belonging. Need. She felt well used - _useful_. She had purpose now – blinding and intense as it was. Suddenly part of something just as he was. Something predestined and clean. _Righteous._

She opened her mouth to say as much, but lost track of the words. Ignoring the others concerned chirps as she tried to push past them. Yearning to escape the barrier of flesh as Mary and Sybil joined in, keeping her well back as Carson and Thomas managed to seize Sir Anthony by the arms. Finding a preening sort of thrill when she realized it was taking all four of them to keep him from her.

 _My Sentinel._ Part of her purred. Knowing it instinctively. The realization satisfying on a primal level she wasn't sure she rightly understood as the man growled and thrashed. Hearing her harsh, breathy pants echo strangely – overloud as the room swayed alarmingly.

The last thing she was aware of was a particular roaring in her ears and the singular sight of Sir Anthony trying to reach her before she fell. Snarling and almost animal as he struggled with the other men as the world faded into nothing and William scooped her up before she hit the ground.

* * *

"This is all very irregular," Mama remarked, worried, muslin rustling as she adjusted her dress compulsively. "Quite scandalous even."

"But manageable," Grandmother pointed out, cane thumping firmly. "If anything, it can be worked with. That is a blessing, my dear. Treat it as such. After all, it could be worse. Sir Anthony is from good stock and clear noble blood. This is a boon, perhaps from heaven itself. Let us not squander it. I am sure Edith will not."

She winced, regaining herself in pieces as the familiar sounds of the two woman bickering washed over her. Choosing not to open her eyes, if only for a moment, as she took stock. Struggling to remember what had happened before the memories returned in a rush and suddenly she was sitting up, head pounding – half-blinded by the well-lit electric.

"Where is he?" she asked immediately, brought up short by how fractured her voice sounded as mama gripped her shoulders and tried to make her lay down again. Realizing she'd must have been carried up to her rooms, as the familiar sight of her bedroom – now crowded with family - greeted her.

"Edith! Darling! Don't strain yourself! Anna, send for Doctor Clarkson at once, he should be down with Sir Anthony and Cousin Matthew, hurry!" Grandmother ordered, not a hair out of place as she patted her arm consolingly. Only catching a flash of uniformed-blonde as Anna slipped quickly from the room.

She accepted the glass of water Cousin Isobel thrust on her. Counting her pulse and testing the heat of her forehead before wiping a cool cloth across her brow.

"Is he alright?"

"He's alright, my dear," Mama answered, "he is with Mathew and your father – Carson, Thomas and Mr. Bates are with them. This has been quite the shock, for both of you, please take it slowly my dear, you've been unconscious for almost two hours."

But she shook her head, feeling his need and hers flare bright in her chest. Clutching harshly at the coverlet as a mournful, desperate sound echoed through the wing. Making her want to thrash and scream. Feeling the burn in every inch of her as she looked around wildly.

"I want to see him. Mama, I must!"

They were cut off before she could answer by a knock on the door, with Doctor Clarkson, Anna and papa wading in. Making her feel marginally claustrophobic as she tried to stand, annoyed when Mary and Sybil refused the action.

"There now Lady Edith, your color is certainly better. How are you feeling?" Doctor Clarkson asked with a smile, looking quite animated despite the late hour as he unbuckled his kit and listened to her heart. Adding another layer of frustration to the moment as papa paced back and forth by the window.

"Fine, thank you," she replied, dutiful, mindful of who was watching as the Doctor handed her a colorful mixture, clearing his throat pointedly until she tossed it back without even so much as asking what it was. Not keen on being denied answers. "Sir Anthony- is he- I must see him."

"He is fine, my lady, I assure you," Doctor Clarkson remarked, slightly guarded as he watched her process through an almost visceral frisson of relief. "Though I am afraid he had to be restrained. It's lucky I had an appropriate Sentinel harness in stock, otherwise-"

"Restrained!" she exclaimed, muting a gasp as she tried to imagine it. _Oh the poor man!_

"He gave us little choice," Papa explained hesitantly, looking very much like he'd rather not share what he knew at all as she stared at him wide-eyed and pleading. "He gave Cousin Matthew a solid black eye trying to get to you and nearly got me as well before Mr. Bates and Thomas got him pinned against the wall."

"Hit his head something awful against the frame, but as it turned out we were lucky it managed to stun him long enough for the other's to carry him off. He went into a proper rage when you fainted, I can tell you that. Didn't know the ol' boy had it in him. Absolutely nothing like him. But my dear, are you sure you're alright? We were all terribly worried."

She nodded, shaken. Unable to stomach even the thought of food as Anna set a tray of broth in front of her. "I want to see him," she said again, smaller this time but no less as firm. Looking from the Doctor to papa, aching for them to see reason. Barely believing it with both nodded.

"Of course you may see him," Doctor Clarkson soothed, eying her closely now. "I know you need to, I am sure every fiber of your being is concentrated just down the hall at this very moment. But do you understand, Lady Edith? Do you know what this is?"

"Yes," she breathed quickly, barely hesitating despite the clear intimacy behind the words. "His is mine-my Sentinel."

"And you are his Guide," Cousin Isobel remarked, cutting cleanly through the ripples of shock. Bold as brass and twice as shined in that way she'd often admired. Leaning forward in the chair beside mama and Grandmother until she looked like she was about to slip clear off as she unfolded her napkin, nudging at the spoon and indicating she try to fortify herself. "I am sure this must be all very frightening, but you know what you must do, do you not?"

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She was calmer now. Or at least a bit less mad. Centered with the knowledge of what was happening and what she wanted also meshed up with what was expected of her. She sipped at the beef broth without interest. Tempted to leap up and join papa in his pacing until Doctor Clarkson snared her attention again.

"You must steel yourself Lady Edith, for what we must discuss might be something of a shock. This is a time when both Sentinel and Guide are at their most vulnerable. In a sense you are lucky it happened here, amongst family and like-minded people than a chance meeting elsewhere," the man started, taking out a small booklet from his kit and setting it down on the tray beside her.

"In better circumstances, you would have time to read this and prepare yourself. Much of it is instinctual, but it is always better to come into these situations informed. Sentinels and Guides are so rare after all. Unfortunately, time is the only thing we do not have in abundance, I am afraid," the doctor explained, tapping at the manual dubiously labeled: _The Behaviors and Treatments of the British Sentinel and Guide Pair. 1860 edition._

"We are dealing with a number of sensitive factors that demand precedence here. His abilities have been latent all his life. For them to rise now and so shockingly has put him in a bad way. His state is...ungentlemanly, to put it mildly. He is not in his right mind but that will only get worse if you do not go to him. I must stress, he is not in any danger, not yet. But he will be and soon. Even in the best circumstances the strain of keeping a freshly discovered pair apart is considered extremely unwise. _On both sides,_ " he finished, directing the last bit to the room at large as mama and papa shared a look over the other's heads.

"I want to-" she blurted. Hands fitful in her lap and she struggled with it. "I feel-"

"It's alright dear, tell us," Mama urged, eyes kind and watering with a mixture of uncertainty and happy pride. Like she was seeing her truly for the first time and was overwhelmed by it. "This is not the time to be silent, no matter how uncomfortable discussing it might be."

"I feel him- _here_ ," she admitted, despising how shuddery her voice sounded as her hand settled on the shelf of her breast. As if to cover the cavernous hole only she could feel. "He needs me. And I quite think I-I might need him too."

"Is there really no time to send for a minister?" Grandmother broke in, cane thumping against the carpets like it had an issue of its own. "I understand we are being forced into modernity at an alarming rate, but surely some things must still be sacred?"

"No. Unfortunately not," Doctor Clarkson replied, earning him a stiff nod of solidarity from Cousin Isobel. "However, the realm of Sentinel and Guide bonding is clear. The solidification of a true bond - as they have both displayed - is beyond judgement or reproach. The only case where marriage under the eyes of God comes secondary and allowances for- well, allowances are made."

"If anything your reputation will be stronger for it," Cousin Isobel cut in. "The county hasn't seen a Sentinel and Guide pairing for almost five generations. I believe the last one was between a kitchen maid and fletcher, if I'm not mistaken."

"When has that ever stopped anything?" Grandmother bugled, lips pursed. "Think of the gossip! You'll be expected to prove all this later, you understand Edith? If only to stop the little people from blabbering. Perhaps Sir Anthony could save the day and predict a house collapse or lift a boulder with one arm. Such are the feats of Sentinel legend, or so I am told. Perhaps we should set up a committee to separate facts from fiction. Hmm?"

Cousin Isobel looked like she was about to comment before Doctor Clarkson slid neatly through the fractured pause. Ignoring the both of them politely, but with the ease of long practice.

"Holding off the bond will only cause problems. As you all know, Sentinels undergo a number of physical changes when they find their Guide – heightened senses, strength and agility. All which will develop more in the coming weeks. But I am concerned about the strain Sir Anthony is under. I have never seen a bond mature this late in life and to be quite frank, I believe he is going through enough at the moment. We simply cannot delay."

"I understand, Doctor Clarkson," she replied firmly, quite determined as she finished the rest of her broth and set the tray aside. Sending papa a nod and a tremulous smile before turning back the Doctor and straightening against the pillows. "I'm ready."

"Yes, I believe you are," he returned, mustache twitching. Tapping at the cover of the booklet like he was thinking over what came next carefully. "Now, this is what you must do."

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think. – There will be three more chapters, stay tuned!


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Downton Abbey or any of its characters, wishful thinking aside.

 **Authors Note #1:** I needed some dirty Edith/Anthony (Andith) and decided to bring the Sentinel/Guide trope in with me. In this story, the idea is that a Sentinel, or a person with enhanced senses, doesn't come online until meeting their Guide, the person best suited to help them balance these abilities – essentially the other half of their soul. In my version, neither Sentinel nor Guide can come online until they are at least twenty years of age. So, essentially, when Sir Anthony Strallan visits Downton in 1x5, this is the first time an encounter would have resulted in them being matched as Edith is at least twenty years old in 1912. – This story has elements of the soulmates/one love bond, as in this version, all Sentinel/Guide pairs are romantically attached.

 **Warnings:** ***** Contains: porn with some actual plot – but not much, dub-con due to trope, period appropriate behavior/language/thoughts/actions/etc, use of restraints, animal traits/behaviors, sexual content, oral sex, nudity.

 **Preconceptions (preconceived, prejudice or just plain puzzled)**

 _ **Chapter Two**_

She entered the room cautiously but with clear intent. Feeling the pull grow stronger with every step she took. A siren callcoiling strongly through her as she followed papa and Doctor Clarkson down the hall and into a secluded wing of the house. A section she hadn't seen much of at all since her girlhood when papa's friends from the war came to visit and reminisce.

She'd heard him clearly during the journey, growling and struggling, pulling at his bonds until the bedposts creaked in warning. Violent enough to make Carson's hedging voice rise up, a balanced counterpoint to Cousin Matthew's gentler one as he urged patience. And perhaps that was why she was brought up short when she found him through the fray and he stilled immediately. Frozen against the bed, nostrils flaring as he panted hotly – silvering hair wild against the pillows as Mary and Mama sucked in twinned gasps of air.

She was quite sure she could have been forewarned a hundred times, but nothing would have prepared her for the sight of him. Sweat-slicked and deranged, coming down from surging harshly against the restraints that pinned him flat to the bed – hobbling his wrists and ankles. Barely aware of Thomas and Mr. Bates excusing themselves as the world outside the two of them rapidly ceased to exist.

Suddenly struck by the realization that the hurried instructions mama and the Doctor had whispered to prepare her wouldn't have made a lick of difference. It all bled together. A wash of ill-timed medical science and stuttered feminine advice as Anna fussed with her hair. Removing her jewelry and straightening her dress. Barely aware of Grandmother clucking in the background about appropriate colors. _"Did it really have to be the rose frock tonight Edith? It's hardly your best color, my dear. Though I do know you like it."_

"Oh, please untie him!" she cried, covering her mouth. Fighting the urge to crumple, or perhaps even be sick as his eyes followed her. _Calling for her just as he had in the Drawing room, silent but undoubtedly divine._ Feeling his pain keen in her breast as pity and want rose high in her throat.

Thinking he looked quite like an animal caught in a trap as he wrenched at his bonds again – _needing her_ – collar undone to reveal a sweaty swathe of pale neck. Unpresentable to say the least with his suit jacket creased and missing two buttons, breasted-shirt in danger of untucking completely, something which Cousin Matthew quickly covered with a thin blanket before rising from his chair beside the bed. Holding a cold-compress across the right side of his face. Smiling sheepishly as Mary hastened to his side.

"Lady Edith, it must be as I instructed, not until he has calmed!" Doctor Clarkson affirmed sternly, brushing past as he captured the older man's arm and counted out his pulse. Shaking his head before continuing. "After which, you can do as you must, but until then - you should be able to sense the right time - I must _insist_ you keep him trussed. For your own safety."

"Sentinels of his ability can be unpredictable. And right now his levels are surging. He could hurt you without meaning to - in confusion and madness. Nothing is more important to a Sentinel than the welfare of their Guide and right now he is likely under the impression we mean to take you from him. We want to avoid that, so, with Lord Grantham's permission, I suggest a swift exit."

She nodded sharply, smiling small. Hoping some of the encouragement she forced into it made it to her face as mama and papa paused in the door jamb, ushering the others out as a surge of murmurs rediscovered their echoes in the main hall. "I understand. And yes, I am quite sure. I'll be fine. Now, please leave us."

"We will be a shout away, my lady, if you need us," Carson told her, pressing the key to the restraints into her palm. Hesitating for a long moment before inclining his head and closing the door with a muted click. Leaving her alone with nothing but the company of her own heartbeat and her Sentinel staring at her unwaveringly through the crackling firelight. Fixed and thrumming, like the moment before the lightning strike.

* * *

She locked the door behind them. Pressing her forehead against the white-wash, as if to leach some of its strength, before she turned and faced him. Trembling and struggling through the flurry of emotion that threatened to strip her strength from her. Heart swelling in her chest until she swore it might burst.

And, much like she'd expected, his eyes were trained on her. Body painfully still but with every muscle tensed and straining, as if every second spent away from her was torture. And _god_ how she believed it.

"My Guide," he rasped, fiercely pleased. Voice grated and rough, nothing like it had been before, floating up in soft waves from the Drawing room. Looking up at her, eyes shining, as if enraptured as his hands clawed at the coverlet. "Mine."

"Yes," she answered, crossing over to him slowly, forgetting to hesitate as settled herself on the chair beside the bed. Close enough that she could touch him, but still far enough that she could pull back if he lunged. "You are my Sentinel. I won't leave you. Never. I promise. Not for anything."

His chest rose and fell exaggeratedly. The low light sharpening his features until he looked almost predatory – what with his Roman nose and deep-set eyes. Much like the glare of a great bird of prey. The intensity of it was singular, enough to almost make her forget herself before the Doctor's words came back to her and forced her into action.

"My name is Edith," she started shakily, slowly pulling off her gloves. "Though I'm sure you already knew that. I just wanted us to get properly acquainted. Can't blame me, I suppose. My father has talked of you before, and I couldn't help overhearing, before all this, that you are interesting farming technology. I should like to learn, if you'll teach me. I am a quick study. All my tutors said as much."

She had his full attention now, seeming to relax a fraction as the creamy skin of her wrist came into view. Making a coarse little sound in the back of his throat when she started on the other. Teasing each finger free with exaggerated slowness as she spoke.

"I am quite sorry I left you alone. Something came over me when they separated us. I am afraid I don't have the words to describe it. To be honest, it was something of a relief, I thought for a moment my soul might have been wrenched from my body. My only regret was that it left you to hold the brunt of it without me. I am sorry," she continued, not quite sure if there was a purpose to the words save for a need to fill the silence, to anchor him steadfast to her in every way that mattered as his eyes started to lose the savage glint of madness.

"Doctor Clarkson suggested that you might want to take me in," she added with a shaky smile, nervous as she reached up and started unpinning her hair. Uncertain if it was the right thing after all when he hissed a breath between his teeth. Watching the first tendril-curl of copperish-blonde as it fell, winding around the cup of her neck.

He shifted across the mattress strangely, almost like he was trying to turn his lower half away from her. Blanket bunched oddly in his lap when she set the pin aside and started on the other side. Talking through it until he was choking on a series of unearthly sounds and straining for her again. Watching her comb through her loose hair with her fingers -self-conscious despite his clear approval.

"You really must forgive me for being so forward," she started, coloring all over again when the Doctor's words washed over her. "But he said this would work best if I removed your shirt. Something about bare skin aiding the bonding process. Can I do that?"

She eyed him speculatively, hair loose and framing gently around her face as she watched his mouth open and close – wordless. Almost as though he was quite beyond them until he nodded. Feeling an odd sort of strength – or perhaps even power – thrum through her as she looked down at him. Knowing implicitly that she was exactly what he needed. All he would ever need, in fact.

 _And really, wasn't that just a thought?_

Her fingers crept forward, pausing against the warm of his undone collar as she gentled it free. Letting it flutter to the carpet as she stroked the polished shine of the top button of his shirt. Giving herself a moment for composure's sake before moving on, unbuttoning his shirt down to the line of his trousers - parting the sides as far as his bunched up suit jacket would allow. Baring him to her for the first time as her breath caught in her throat.

She hadn't expected the masculine form to be so appealing. In the great works it was the feminine that was so often captured in marble and stone, described in detail in terms of lush hips and swelling attributes. It all felt rather criminal really. Especially when he was here in all his glory, an intriguing mix of lean muscle, silvering curls and just the barest hint of softness that so often heralded that of middle age. Handsome and in his prime.

It pleased her greatly. Enough that when she leaned forward in her chair, unconsciously following the quivering line of his abdomen further and further down she was shocked when her thighs clenched and a little frisson of pleasure burst forth. _Oh!_ She blushed furiously, wondering if he'd noticed. Getting her answer a moment later when his nostrils flared again and he let go of a sudden growl. Blanket now doing little to hide his interest as she peeked at it furtively.

 _Perhaps she was getting a bit ahead of herself?_

"Guide," he said again, butchering the syllables so it came out half a question and half a command. Making her startle, realizing she'd quite lost track of herself as she sucked in a shuddering breath.

 _Well, she supposed there was nothing else for it._

The only reference she had to compare the moment when she leaned forward and draped herself over the bare of his chest – blonde hair flowing free as she rested her cheek on his breast– was handling an object of unimaginable value. Like the crystal sculpture in the east gallery. Caught between wanting to touch and daring not to breathe lest one strong gust send it toppling. Shattering across the floor in a million sharded pieces.

 _Because if this was a dream, she didn't want to wake up. She simply couldn't bare it._

She remained still as he scented her with long exaggerated pulls. Nuzzling into her hair and the pale of her neck as his chest positively rumbled with pleasure. Reminding her of one of the great African cats she'd seen prowling their cages in the London Zoo. Feral and wildly untamed. Trying not to giggle when the muscles of his chest twitched and jerked against the plush of her cheek.

It was a singular experience, soaking in what existed between breaths. Feeling much like they'd sunk into each other's skin, intertwined ivory-deep. Connecting just like she been yearning for ever since she found him staring back at her across the dining room, elegant throat caught mid-sip as his fingers loosened around the stem. The rhythms of the world ebbing and flowing around them, shifting to meet them as they took their place amongst the natural order. Filling her with a sense of purpose and belonging that was unlike anything she'd ever experienced. Far beyond any hopeful imagining she could have ever come up with as her heart pounded like mad.

It could have been hours later when she looked over at him, finding his eyes almost pitch black, pupils blown with arousal. Breathing like he'd run a marathon as he shuddered in place, bound hands clenching and releasing uselessly, faint inches away. It wasn't until she returned her head to the unsteady pedestal of his breast and smiled into his skin that he inhaled sharply. Clearing his throat as a measure of composure flooded back to him.

"Lady-lady Edith, I am-that is, I am finding myself-" he started. Forcing the words out like each one was laced with broken glass. Like forming that handful of words was perhaps the hardest thing he'd ever done in his life and they were all for her.

"I don't want you to think I am taking liberties, this is all quite-"

"Hush, I'm here," she soothed, gentling the crook of her finger over his palm. Tracing just below where the cuff-like restraints had already bit into his skin. Feeling the rightness of it wash over her as their fingers tangled. Like she'd taken a long, century overdue stretch. Sensing the tension bleed out of his limbs at the same time, only to be replaced by one of a very different kind. One that made her nervous, yet decidedly bold as she met his stare head on.

"The only liberties you will be taking tonight are the ones I want just as much as you."

He shuddered. Head thumping back on the pillows before-

"I need you," he admitted. "God help me but I _want_ you too."

"And I you," she returned, refusing to let her words be tempered as he started – shocked and pleased in turns. Looking at her in that singular way, like he was devouring her with his eyes and placing her on a pedestal like some precious, invaluable thing all at once.

She waited until she was sure he wasn't going to say anything else before she inched herself upright. Keeping the movement slow and unthreatening, ensuring the majority of her was still pressed against him as she leaned down and tugged on the cuff fastened around his right ankle pointedly.

"I am going to unlock the first cuff, is that alright?" she asked huskily.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think. – There will be two more chapters, stay tuned.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Downton Abbey or any of its characters, wishful thinking aside.

 **Authors Note #1:** I needed some dirty Edith/Anthony (Andith) and decided to bring the Sentinel/Guide trope in with me. In this story, the idea is that a Sentinel, or a person with enhanced senses, doesn't come online until meeting their Guide, the person best suited to help them balance these abilities – essentially the other half of their soul. In my version, neither Sentinel nor Guide can come online until they are at least twenty years of age. So, essentially, when Sir Anthony Strallan visits Downton in 1x5, this is the first time an encounter would have resulted in them being matched as Edith is at least twenty years old in 1912. – This story has elements of the soulmates/one love bond, as in this version, all Sentinel/Guide pairs are romantically attached.

 **Warnings:** ***** Contains: porn with some actual plot – but not much, dub-con due to trope, period appropriate behavior/language/thoughts/actions/etc, use of restraints, animal traits/behaviors, sexual content, oral sex, nudity.

 **Preconceptions (preconceived, prejudice or just plain puzzled)**

 _ **Chapter Three**_

The moment the cuff slackened around his trouser-leg, Sir Anthony's reaction was immediate. Immediate, but not violent. Pressing his flank against her arm, the muscles in his belly rippling as he soaked her in. Just wanting to be close. Shifting himself so that they were always touching when she freed the other ankle. Throat painfully dry as she hesitated above the cuff that held his left wrist.

 _Soon there would be no more turning back._

 _No more chances to flee or solve this another way._

 _Soon he would have her - possess her._

 _Know her completely not only as a Sentinel, but as a man as well._

"I won't hurt you," he told her, making her blink in a way that caused her to wonder just when she'd closed her eyes. Looking down at him, shocked. Wondering if it was all there, written on her face. "I don't think I can."

"You smell- _god_ , I can hardly contain myself. Like sin itself," he murmured, legs restless across the mattress as she bit at the inside of her cheek - unlocking his wrist gingerly. Rubbing feeling back into it, if only to hide her nerves as he watched her through hooded eyes. Chancing his luck as he reached up and traced the curve of her cheek with a surprisingly calloused hand. Delighting her with the contrast as she ducked into the caress without thought.

She supposed a sane person might take a moment to question their course at a time like this. To pause and reflect, but not them. It was as Doctor Clarkson said, buoyed by the need to be joined in all ways, they found themselves rather in a bubble of their own. A place where the expectations placed upon them, the limitations of propriety and tradition ceased to matter.

Instead, without even so much as a warning she unlocked the final restraint with a quick burst of movement. Settling back in her chair like she'd seen her mother do in front of papa when she wanted something. Smile coy and shoulders set like a challenge.

And he didn't disappoint. He was on her in a flash. Pulling her in, one hand firm around the small of her back as he brought her flush against him. Inhaling fiercely as his free hand buried itself in her curls – unsteady and over eager like he didn't quite know what he wanted to do with her first.

"Mine," he growled, tipping back her head to expose her throat. Trailing sluggish, open-mouthed kisses across it as she squirmed atop him, sitting almost squarely in his lap now as his hardness brushed against the swell of her bottom.

His lips were like electricity sparking, bold and only slightly understated until he found her lips and begged entrance. Soft and gentle for a long second – more she suspected for her sake than his.

"God, I want you in ways I didn't know it was possible to want someone," he groaned, raw and ungoverned. Making her center ache when he kept her hips firm and ground himself against her. Seeming to get a special sort of pleasure from the act as he repeated it, body hitching up – once, twice, then again - like a hiccup before he restrained himself.

"Then have me then," she returned, angling for cheeky only to hear it come out breathless. Chasing a pleasant sort of tingling every time the bulge of his manhood pressed against her center.

But he took her up on it regardless, vaguely aware of the sound of tearing cloth and gooseflesh pebbling down across her bare arms as he forwent any formal attempts at undressing and ripped her frock at the seams. Snarling as he tossed a long swath of rose-tinted material behind her – taking her under-slip with it. Leaving her shivering in her corset, staring up at him wide-eyed as he sucked a heady sort kiss into the pale of her throat. Butting into her with his nose until he'd unseated her and pressed her down against the mattress, looming above her like some sort of dishevelled hero from the romances she'd read in the later hours by candlelight.

And- _oh!_

She turned her head to watch as the confining layers of her corset were peeled away and similarly disposed of. Snapping the laces and flinging them clear off the bed until she was suddenly bare. Feeling vulnerable and strangely small as he stared down at her. Having half a mind to cover herself with the sheets before-

"Gorgeous," he breathed.

She melted. As if every misgiving she didn't know she'd had until the moment he'd laid her bare simmered away under the heat of his gaze. It made her bold, she supposed. For there was nothing else to explain the way she reached for him. Tugging at the folds of his jacket until he pulled back and wrenched himself out of it, leaving him bare from the waist up as she stroked a hand down his chest in wonderment.

"My Sentinel," she hummed.

She understood the mechanics of it when he started to know her. Taking her in as only a Sentinel could. Learning her. But it was nothing like the separated, brusque sensing the Doctor had described. It was perhaps _beyond_ intimacy. Sexual in nature but comprised of something more - fuller and all-encompassing. Strengthening the bond as he set her to memory. Touch, taste, smell, sight - nothing was left undiscovered.

From the bottoms of her feet to the lobes of her ears, they were both in a state when he eventually pulled away. Feeling soft and pliable against the sheets as she moaned carelessly. Body flushed and teased beyond all hope of endurance as she stretched out, hoping to tempt him back. Only having a moment to wonder why he was angling down like that before-

She let out a cry – a soft keening sort of mewl when he nosed at the soft folds of her center. Hands seizing around his shoulders instinctively as he looked up at her through the half-dark, avenging and pure. Seeming to ask for her permission before she found her thighs spreading of their own accord, answering without thought and consequence before she lost him again.

He loved her with his tongue. It sounded vulgar. But soon enough she was pleading for it. Never realizing such glorious pleasures could be rung from her as he flicked at the nub that crowned her center. His attentions making her slick, smearing his face with the heat of her as he attacked her sex with a single minded purpose she might have found frightening if she wasn't so enraptured.

She didn't realize her hands had moved until she found them buried in his hair, scratching at his scalp with encouraging pulls. Certain if not for the grip he had on her, keeping her hips flat with one splayed arm, she swore she might have broken his nose when the throbbing pleasure sharpened, then surged. Taking her firmly over the peak as she jerked, moaning.

The kiss he pressed into the inner of her thigh as she came down was sweetly desperate and unabashedly pleased. Making her want to laugh as she reached down and captured his hand in hers. Feeling he looked rather satisfied with himself as her essence shone clear across his face.

 _God, it was little wonder no one talked of the intimacies that went on in the marriage bed! She couldn't imagine there were words to describe such things. Let alone actually say them! How wonderful!_

She could taste herself on his lips as he kissed her, cupping her breast and laving her nipples until they pebbled prettily. Looking much like he wanted to lose himself in her all over again as he nuzzled against her, a series of low purring growls issuing from deep in his throat as he breathed her in.

"Please," she whispered. Uncertain of what she was asking for until he reared up and fumbled with his trousers. Getting tangled together when she surged up to help. Pulling a groan that almost sounded pained when she tentatively reached out and stroked his hardness through the material.

Her eyes flicked up, watched him through the fan of her lashes when he captured her hand and held it firm. Able to feel his member tremble and twitch, surging with unmistakable interest before he slowly drew his hands away, allowing her to do as she willed as a warm flush flooded through her.

She couldn't help but stare when he was finally free. Captured by the colt-like grace of his thighs and the singular way his hardness curved up. Brushing against his belly, head already slick with fluid – something she'd once overheard signaled pleasure from both the sexes – threatening to dome off the tip and trickle down the length of him completely.

She licked her lips thoughtlessly, earning her another pained sound before his control abruptly snapped and he was scooping her up and bearing her back onto the sheets. Covering her body with his own as they came flush together, gasping at the intensity of it.

There was something so very appealing about his touch. Something that struck her down to the very marrow. Something that uncoiled itself and- _oh!_

Her thoughts fell away from her when his hardness found her center, pressing desirously against her folds as he held himself there, poised to enter. Searching her face for something. Not quite permission but certainly along the same vein. Waiting until she nodded and fastened her arms around his neck before he pushed into her.

He parted her cleanly, cleaving her on the inside as she squirmed – caught. Feeling for the first time a dull thrum of discomfort before she found herself clawing at him instinctively, trying to escape the intrusion as something – a part her mother had spoken of hurriedly before they'd left her bedroom – stopped the short but exquisite glide.

There was no time to ready herself, no time to acclimatize. And perhaps it was better that way. Better to do it quickly, just as he did when he shunted his hips and buried himself to the hilt inside her. Breaking the final barrier that kept them apart as she cried out.

"I am so sorry my darling, it will fade, I promise," he whispered, voice ragged between kisses as he reached between them and thumbed her center, concentrating on that little bundle of nerves that he'd played so well for her only minutes before. Pain fastly fading as it morphed into an achy sort of pleasure.

 _They were one._ She realized distantly.

They started to move together gradually, experimental thrusts that made her want to show him her throat and search blindly for some sort of hand hold as he strangled a growl. Wiping at a sheath of sweat as he leaned down. Cradling his head between her breasts like he was almost overcome with it before snapping his hips sharply, burying himself to his very limits as she wailed in pleasure – surprised at the roughness but too wanton to even think of protesting. A high sound that only seemed to incite him further as he started a stuttering sort of rhythm that had her gasping and him muffling curses into her hair.

"Oh yes. _Please_ ," she whimpered, when he lifted one of her legs up to drape around his shoulder. Snarling into her skin, eyes fixed on where he was appearing and disappearing inside her. Turning the air thick and erotic as he gleamed in the low light, soaked with her as he stole a clumsy kiss that had her arching to return it.

"Edith, _god_ , you're so-"

It was clear right away that he knew what he liked. Because soon enough a careful, experienced sort of confidence seemed to take hold. Fueling his actions with heated intent when he curled his hand around her nape and encouraged her to wrap her legs around him. Grunting as she clung to him, making her squeal at the changed angle as he reached a spot inside her that made her feel like she might shudder apart.

It was an advantage she wouldn't truly understand until later. Until he taught her by example that it was his previous experiences that enabled him to have a measure of control she did not. Ensuring he was able to devote himself to her completely. Taking what he liked and how, but wringing from her the most gorgeous tremblings. Proving that maturity had benefits over youthful inexperience in spades.

She mewled in surprise when he abruptly hiked her up, gathering her as he sat upright, planting his knees on the mattress before thrusting back into her. Neck muscles straining as he tossed back his head and groaned, lifting her slowly before letting her drop again. Working her over his cock as she whimpered, clinging to him. It was the same rhythm from before, only this time it made her wrack with the intensity of it.

 _It felt like so much more!_

Her breasts bounced with the force of it. Nipples hard and begging to be sucked as he answered her silent plead and cupped them, rolling one with a light pinch before taking the other in his mouth. Murmuring all the words neither of them had the breath to say into the dewy-pale of his shoulders.

He snarled – hips stuttered, rhythm wholly lost – when she clenched experimentally around him. Darkly pleased by his reaction when he jerked, hips snapping up like a wild thing. But rather than shrinking back, she held his gaze and did it again – laughing for the pure joy of it when he growled. Eyes feral-blue as her name left his lips in a reverent whisper. Thrusting up a handful of times – frantic and quite gone with it - before he groaned, stilling inside her. Peaking beautifully as he seized her by the hair, lips seeking hers. Bringing her cleanly to the edge before flinging her clear off it when he reached between them and rubbed her frantically. Overwhelming her until she couldn't do anything but arc her back and _keen_.

* * *

She fell asleep knowing the press of him against her. Listening as his breathing gradually evened out and the low satisfied sort of throb that issued from her core was her only company as she thumbed down the line of his arm with a contented sigh. Knowing they had marked each other, inside and out. Completing a ritual older than perhaps even the world itself. Timeless in nature. A bond that only death's cruel hand could rend.

No more uncertainty.

No turning back.

Only this.

 _And god was she glad of it!_

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think. – There will be one more chapter, stay tuned.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Downton Abbey or any of its characters, wishful thinking aside.

 **Authors Note #1:** I needed some dirty Edith/Anthony (Andith) and decided to bring the Sentinel/Guide trope in with me. In this story, the idea is that a Sentinel, or a person with enhanced senses, doesn't come online until meeting their Guide, the person best suited to help them balance these abilities – essentially the other half of their soul. In my version, neither Sentinel nor Guide can come online until they are at least twenty years of age. So, essentially, when Sir Anthony Strallan visits Downton in 1x5, this is the first time an encounter would have resulted in them being matched as Edith is at least twenty years old in 1912. – This story has elements of the soulmates/one love bond, as in this version, all Sentinel/Guide pairs are romantically attached.

 **Warnings:** ***** Contains: porn with some actual plot – but not much, dub-con due to trope, period appropriate behavior/language/thoughts/actions/etc, use of restraints, animal traits/behaviors, sexual content, oral sex, nudity.

 **Preconceptions (preconceived, prejudice or just plain puzzled)**

 _ **Chapter Four**_

She came back to herself slowly. Not for the first time in so many hours. Finding herself sprawled across the bed, naked and gently pinned underneath a long span of masculine-pale and tawny graying-blonde hair.

She was still caught in that fuzzy place between sleep and wakefulness when she allowed her hand to card through it, curious. Admiring the way the odd silver hair caught the light before she followed lightly toned muscles all the way up to-

 _Oh!_

 _Sir Anthony._

 _Her Sentinel._

She peeked through the stuttered dark, the low glow of the fire being the only light, over-warm where he was pressed against her. Scooped close to his chest and tucked firmly, wide palm cupped around the curve of her hip, the other buried firmly in her hair. Keeping her close – safe – even in sleep as he stirred quietly. Perhaps noting the change in her breathing, however slight, as he murmured nonsense into her curls and tangled their legs together. Flaring heat low in her belly as his hardness prodded questioningly against her, reminding her of the hours before and the delicious pleasures they had shared.

She gave herself a moment to soak it in. The pleasant scent of him, the lingering musk of their pleasure and the honest draw of him before she chanced movement. Uncurling herself slowly, gingerly, sore in places she'd rather not mention, but satisfied beyond measure as she looked about the room in embarrassed dismay.

She was only just entertaining what happened next when Sir Anthony woke. Blinking muzzily at the ceiling before throwing an arm over his eyes and stretching languorously. Nearly upsetting her from her place beside him as he inhaled throatily. Free hand creeping blindly across the sheets as he rubbed at the threads with idle interest, nostrils flaring when his nail scraped across a wet patch and released the fresh scent of their emissions into the close air.

" _Good god_ ," he exclaimed, letting go of a groan that got muffled into the mattress as he pressed his face into the ball of sheets and ripped up blankets. Reminding her of pillow creases and the rumpled state of his hair as his hips hitched into hers thoughtlessly.

It amused her enough to make her giggle without filter. Regretting it only when the sound caused him to stiffen immediately. Fumbling upright in the damp sheets to face her, wide-eyed. A poignant mix between wanton and horrified as he clutched uselessly at the linens, trying to shield her from his impressive length as his member tented the sheets in his lap with dramatic stubbornness.

"Lady Edith, you must forgive me! I-I-"

But she stopped him immediately, sensing where he was going and halting him with a bold finger pressed light over his lips. Pleased when he obeyed without question. Finding the surge of embarrassed propriety that'd risen quickly between them remarkably silly considering the circumstances.

Bidding him to look at her smile and the contented glow that surrounded them before taking stock of the room together – hand in hand in bed. It was certainly a sight. What with the overturned chair, side table and abandoned restraints. Wincing with her when he saw her gown in tatters across the floor, undergarments suitably strewn about the room to match. Even going so far as to delight her with an amused huff when he pointed to her corset, quietly smoldering against the fire grate.

 _Lord in heaven, they really had tied one in with each other, hadn't they!?_

She caught a glance of their reflection in the looking glass across the room, realizing she was beaming. Feeling decidedly settled – content – for the first time in her life as she arched her back. Gratified when the action captured his attention. Watching him watch her through the mirror as his eyes raked down her, desire clear. She bit her lip, finding herself not quite above stretching luxuriously. Welcoming his attentions as the angry line of marks he'd sucked into the delicate taper of her collarbone came firmly into view, making his breath catch becomingly.

She found she quite enjoyed it.

"I would rather us choke on the words we can't say, than drown in the ones we think we can – perhaps in a moment of desperation and uncertainty - only to regret them later," she told him eventually, looking down at their joined hands with pride before squeezing gently. Pleased when he returned the gesture tentatively.

"Quite right my dear, very wise," he replied after a series of steadying breaths, visibly calming as he buried his face in her hair and pulled her firmly – carefully – into his chest. An exciting mix between man and Sentinel as he took comfort in their conjoined scents. Finding that much, at least, to be true as she tried to remember everything papa had told her about bonded pairs.

 _She would need to familiarize herself with all the details she could, and immediately!_

"I believe we must have properly shocked everyone," she offered after a time. Sated and far gentler than she usually was when it came to her sisters as she recalled the look on Mary's face before the door had closed. And while she didn't know where the surge of gentleness had come from, she only had to look into his kind eyes to know he was already affecting her - just as she was him.

"No doubt!" he exclaimed, "Your father must be ready to have me run off and shot, I'll expect. And quite right too. I believe I owe your Cousin an apology, as well. If my memory is correct, I might have struck him. Right mess I've made out of this. That's for certain."

" _We've_ made," she reminded firmly. But with a hint of teasing at the corner as his own lips perked up, clearly warming to the notion. "I was there too, don't you forget. Besides, I believe I might have done something terribly improper as well. I-I think I growled at mama. They were keeping me from you and I couldn't-"

He seemed to sense her need before she knew it herself. Soothing her instantly. "Hush. Darling," he murmured, "I understand completely. I was ready to take the world on just to touch you. You have no idea. Even now, there is nothing I wouldn't do."

She curled closer, burrowing into his chest as she considered the matter. It was such a queer thing, to know a person without truly knowing them. To have them in the most intimate sense but having never had a conversation. It was all very backward. Endearing. _Right_. But still the wrong way round as far as she was concerned.

"You may think me forward, Sir Anthony, but I want to be clear," she started, tracing distracted whorls into the inside of his wrist, nipples tightening reflexively as he sat up straighter, bare chest hushing across her back. "I want there to be no doubt of my intent nor my feelings for you. I am your Guide. And you _are_ my Sentinel. But I hope, in the coming days, you will let me learn of you. I think I would very much enjoy getting to know you properly."

She didn't have to see his expression to know he was smiling truly now. She felt it in the very heart of her as he turned her bodily and placed her on his lap – an effortless strength she wondered if he'd always possessed - so he could face her. Bringing her hand to his mouth in a kiss as he stirred in the sheets underneath her. Filling her mind with all sorts of unladylike imaginings as she planted her feet and considered what reaction she might get if she bore down.

"I couldn't agree more, my dear."

His reaction, as it turned out, was _more_ than enthusiastic.

* * *

"I hope I wasn't too rough on you," he murmured, perhaps hours later. Blue eyes serious and swimming with concern. Clearly shaken at having acted out his pleasure in such a forward, animalistic way without the excuse of madness. Contrite and self-damning until she captured his attention and bade him to look down at his own skin. Now stained brilliant red amongst the freckles and occasional boyish scar with evidence of her passions.

"Not anymore rough than I to you," she returned, tracing down the line of a particularly deep furrow her nails had carved into his skin. Delighting in the savage idea of it when he quivered against her, strangling a groan that seemed all the more damning when he refused to let it free from his throat.

She shivered, though she was not cold. The marks glowing red in the low light like a staked claim as they looked at each other in clear wonderment. She felt her thoughts flow to her cheeks in a blush. Recalling their passion, their intimacy as words to describe the feelings welling up inside her fled completely. Leaving her bereft, captured cleanly by the solidness of his chest rising and falling against hers. Glutting herself on every inch of him as he ran a careful, wondering hand down the pale of her shoulder.

Their path had been chosen for them, and yet she couldn't bring herself to regret an inch of it. This was right. _Fated._ For once, her life felt precisely as it should be. Centering and wholesome as the firm of his member twitched with tired interest against her naked thigh.

 _Her Sentinel._

Soon to be her husband, of that she was quite sure.

Grandmother and Mother were probably ankle deep in planning already.

And judging by the way he still clasped her close, the feeling was more than mutual.

The thought alone made her smile.

 _Her Sentinel._

And how lucky they were for it, she decided. She watched him through the veil of her lashes, finding him more than pleasing, more than a match for her despite Mary's grousing earlier that afternoon. Because despite the baser nature of their union, despite the wants and needs of the Sentinel still churning in the back of his eyes, doubt was still present. Certain she was looking at a man whom papa would have termed as 'prone to falling on his own sword' if he thought it would better her in any way.

 _Huumph._ There would be none of that if she had any say in it. Which, of course, she did, being his Guide. It was a strange thing but the reality of it was it gave her power. A queer sort of status not only in the outside world be here as well – solely between the two of them. For a Sentinel could no more part from their Guide than they could willfully abandon the territories they'd chosen to protect.

It was innate. _Instinctual._ She would be his, just as much as he would be hers. True until the day they died. Bonded pairs were not merely romantically suited, but they were soul matches. She would not take another – neither husband nor Sentinel any more than he could another wife or Guide if she fell ill and died tomorrow. For better or worse – in her opinion, better – they were stuck with one another. The idea was delightful as much as it was sobering. Their happiness would be brief in comparison to the years she'd likely spend without him, but she _would_ be happy. That much was certain. And it was all she'd ever wanted.

"I'm afraid we've gone and done this rather the wrong way around, my darling," he managed after the long pause. As if sensing the nature of her thoughts and mirroring them as the sheets tangled becomingly around his calves, off-setting the soft ivory-cream against the dark blond hairs that covered them.

"Have we?" she returned, brow slanted with amused determination before she raised her hand and let her thumb brush down the strong line of his jaw. Nipples tightening as they remembered the rasp of barely-there stubble whisking across the sensitive peaks. Feeling herself throb heatedly as she recalled the way he'd played with her. Experienced and eager to please as she turned into a right puddling mess underneath him. "I disagree."

He simply smiled down at her, the expression made almost solely with his eyes, twinkling and decidedly wicked in a way she knew she already loved. Watching curiously as he cocked his head, as if listening to something far away. Watching as a boyish sort of wonder made tracks across his face. Already marveling over his newly acquired senses, no doubt.

 _This would be an adjustment. Not only for them, but for everyone._

She'd only ever met a bonded pair in passing once, a friend of papa's from the war the year after she'd been officially presented to society during their season in London. But she remembered every detail keenly. They'd made a stir wherever they went, eclipsing everything in their wake as they soaked in each other like a sponge. And for good reason, she'd never seen two people more suited for one another. Their manner and behavior had been shocking at first, unbridled and embarrassingly passionate to most of those around them. But not to papa.

It had been one of the few years she'd had her father's undivided attention, and she'd made good use of it. Begging for stories and his impressions of the pair. Mary had called her flighty and girlishly predicable, but she'd listened raptly with her all the same. Listening to their father speak - always quick to refill his brandy - as the hours fell away and he spun a tale she could scarcely believe when she woke the next morning to Gwen's soft signing - whisking open the curtains with a practised flick. Deciding to keep everything she'd learned close to her chest lest mama or Mary choose to mock her for it later.

 _How strange that she would find herself in the exact same position all these years later?_

"Though, I hope you know I do expect you to ask me properly when we finally chance returning to the outside world," she remarked, cheekily. Leaning back against the pillows as he trailed a hand, hesitant and rapturous across her belly. Strong fingers turning devious and shy in turns as he arrowed up to cup her breast, rolling them into the sheets until she was underneath him once more – covered and safe. Learning her fully with all his senses as she centered him with barely a ripple. Ensuring he didn't lose himself in the moment and fall too deeply into the fugue state that so often plagued neglected Sentinels.

"My dear, I would bend a knee for you a hundred times over if you'll have me," he returned, leaning in to kiss her chastely. Tone ringing with an earnest, honest sort of affirmation that made something in her settle. Knowing in the very heart of her that he would too.

It was a grand feeling.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think. – This story is now complete. Thank you for all the welcomes and support I received with this story, I am considering making a small series out of this if there is interest.


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